Capacity by Tony Ballantyne Read Free Book Online

that the most intelligent being known to humankind, if it really did exist, would choose to inflict suffering on sentient beings.
    The pod was reading his discomfort: it now paraphrased the words originally attributed to the Watcher.
    “She was a human personality construct, Justinian. If she lived forever, she wouldn’t be human. If she never got ill, or ran the risk of illness, she wouldn’t be human.”
    “That’s not an excuse.”
    “It’s all that you’re getting.”
    Justinian gave a mental sigh of relief that this section of the interview was over. To have an AI dip so deeply into his mind—what damage could it have done? Was there any way of telling? Now Justinian called up the visual representation of the pod’s intelligence on a narrow-beam viewing field from his console. The pod shouldn’t be able to see it, but it could probably read by his reactions what he was doing. It would no doubt mention the fact in a moment.
    There were no clues there. The pod’s VRep looked just the same as those of all the other pods he had examined on this planet: concentric bands of color vanishing into infinity at the center of the image. The picture always reminded Justinian of a cross section of an incredibly old and gnarled tree trunk. On cursory inspection there was nothing unusual there: it was an apparently sane and healthy personality. There were no clues here to its creation…
    “Does my VRep give you any clues to why I committed suicide? I feel like I’m rattling around the inside of this case, just looking for answers.”
    “No, nothing. Do you realize that you have exactly the same personality construct as all the other AI pods I visited? It’s like you all agreed on a common template before you wound yourselves down. All of you answer my questions in the same way.”
    “Is that your child I see, there in the hatchway to the flier?” asked the pod, changing the subject.
Nobody likes to be told they’re not an original
. Justinian looked towards the flier. The craft’s lights were dimming as the sun rose. Leslie was standing just inside the rear hatchway, gently rocking Justinian’s son in its arms.
    “Yes,” said Justinian. “That’s the baby.”
    “The baby? Doesn’t it have a name?”
    Justinian was used to this question by now. Even so, it didn’t diminish the twinge of pain he felt whenever he gave the answer.
    “His mother has been in a coma since just before he was born. We’ll decide on a name once she comes out of it.”
    “Your wife is in a coma? How unusual. What’s the matter with her?”
    “The White Death. Have you heard of it?”
    “Of course,” said the pod, “…I’m sorry.” There was a pause. The pod continued: “Only, how old is the baby? Fifteen months, I would guess.”
    “Almost exactly. Don’t say anything else. Anya will get better, and then we’ll choose a name for our son.”
    A pregnant pause. And then the AI made the statement Justinian had been waiting for.
    “Historically speaking, people would leave their children at home when they traveled into dangerous situations.”
    “Historically speaking,” said Justinian, slowly and deliberately, “people used to rape, murder, and die of starvation. Just because it happened in the past doesn’t mean it has to be a good thing. Nowadays, parents do not leave their children to be raised by others, and as his mother is ill, where else would he be but here with me?”
    Another pause.
    “Okay,” said the pod slowly, “if that’s what you think is best. Why did they send you here to Gateway? There must be lots of other counselors specializing in PCs who don’t have children. Or whose partner isn’t in a coma…. Ah.” The pod suddenly understood. “So,” it wondered, “am I like Anya? Do you think that I might have caught the White Death?”
    “I don’t think so,” said Justinian. “You’re still thinking.”
    “Albeit at a much reduced level.”
    Justinian waved to the baby. It didn’t see him;